Egg Shell of a Mourning Dove
What is so endearing about finding a small, empty bird egg in the grass? I think the charm lies in knowing that you are holding evidence of a beginning of life in your hand. Such a realization unleashes poignant memories: Memories of your own newborn's tiny nose that looks like yours; the first day you had to send that child out into the world; the first time you held your new grandbaby. Yes, I think that little broken shell reminds us how fragile, exquisite and painful a new beginning can be.
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